S(crap)tacular Stories

Life is like lemonade, sugar can be added to it and it gets sweeter. If acid is added, it’ll likely end up being death-in-a-cup. Though, I suppose that’s true with any drink. Actually, if acid was added to anything I’d imagine it wouldn’t be good. Today, I was feeling that life was on the slightly acidic side but still somewhat safe to ingest. It had some zest to it.

The morning started off with a kick just as the previous had. I found myself awake in the bed listening to the pitter patter of foot- err, hoofsteps, I guess. I refused to open my eyes even though I had regained consciousness. They paced down the hall, doing whatever it was horses do to freshen up in the morning. I lied there, motionless, unsure about whether or not I really wanted to confront reality just yet.

Human-like animals? Was that really even possible? I know yesterday that I confronted the impossible and I know that they’re more than just four legged lame horses, but part of me just doesn’t accept that. It’s against everything I know about them. At first I thought they were immensely intelligent, but now… The evidence is in front of me, as obvious as a brick wall in the middle of a street, and I should accept that for what it is… but why can’t I?

Ethan, if you keep thinking like this you’re going to hurt yourself. That’s why you have bandages on your head.
I know self, but don’t you think that there’s something not right here?

Everything isn’t right here you idiot. That’s the point.

What?

What’s the definition of sanity, Ethan?

Stuff that’s normal?

You’re half right. Sanity is defined only by what is known as insane. Do you remember the Mayans? They would sacrifice people and it wasn’t considered insane; yet, if you sacrificed someone today the police would be at your front door step within minutes. Think about everything that’s happened so far. You met an intelligent red stallion, he took you to his house, they gave you food, shelter, hygiene, and hospital assistance. Speaking of, the chart had horse anatomy. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?

What’s your- err, my point?

You’re the insane part right now. If this internal monologue about talking to yourself isn’t a huge fucking hint then I don’t know what is.

Holy shit, you’re right!

Of course I’m right! I’m you! Now, wake the hell up and try and perceive the world differently today. Assume that whatever happens is right and I promise you it’ll get easier. Also, you’ll stop talking to yourself, it would be a lovely bonus for your sanity.

Heeding my own advice, I yawned a vigorous yawn and stretched out my arms to an empty bedspread which lead me to believe that the yellow pony had left sometime last night. Without much forethought, I let my eyes view the first glimpse of morning.

Instead, I got paper.

Yellow, rolled-up, bound in ribbon (how much ribbon is around this place anyways?), papery goodness. I’ve found more ways to annoy people out of sleep in half a week here than in my own home.

My hand worked its way up to my face and gently grabbed the vision-obstructing scroll. I soon found the same room I had been bunking in once again filled with the early morning rays of sunshine, the wheelchair from yesterday, and an angry looking Stetson pony in the middle of the room, completely statuesque in appearance except instead of invoking beauty she implied pain and fear. Mostly pain.

She flared her nostrils at me and a visible puff of air flew out. I made immediate eye contact with her, fearing her animalistic side, and tried to locate the source of the problem. I looked down at the other end of the bed and found the issue immediately. Hair-bow, the yellow filly, was sleeping on the ends of my leg nubs. She had the same tear stained eyes as last night. I wasn’t sure of the exact relationship between the two but Stetson was definitely related if she was standing up for her.
I gulped because I knew what was coming:

A) A rampaging charge.
B) A kick to the face!
C) No! Wait! Maybe that crazy mare is going to take my chair and then drop me off outside, leaving me to crawl away from the fields!
D) All of the above!

No, you moron, they’re not animals, remember? Well, ok, they are animals, but they’re not animal animals. Try and act human around them.

Following my astoundingly vocal conscious, I put my hands in the air as high as they could go in surrender. It got me a raised eyebrow which was, by all means, progress. She approached me, nearing no closer than the very edge of the bed, and put a lone hoof on my chest. With a scowl (I didn’t know they could physically do that…) she looked at her then back at me. She took her hoof off my body and dragged it down her cheek.

She stared at me, straight in the eyes, and remained silent. She wasn’t entirely angry. I think she was just concerned to the point of anger. The expression, “your eyes tell all” has never been clearer. I… worried them, especially the youngest one. Message received, “do not hurt Hair-bow ever again or fear my wrath.”

She nuzzled Hair-bow softly on her head. With weary, red eyes, she stirred almost half asleep and clambered on to the orange pony’s back. Stetson gave me one last glance and then walked out of the room. I waited, listening to the clambering of steps going up some stairs. I heard the shuffling of some blankets, the creak of a wooden frame, and then a door close as softly as it could. She then retreated back downstairs, not bothering to enter my room.

I clenched my fists and heard a faint crumpling noise.

Right, the scroll.

I undid the fastenings and unraveled the paper finding yet another picture story. It had been separated into four boxes with depictions of ponies and some other various objects that I wasn’t too sure about. Interestingly enough, only one symbol managed to stay consistent. It was a parabolic shape, much like a hoof, but each box had a different number of them in the top left corner. I suppose this was their counting system? Hooves?

Ok, right. That’s completely normal around here. Accept that for what it is and move on.

First box: A scraggly stick figure looking thing putting on clothes and getting some food. That was easy to decipher considering the shirt-ish shape and the pants-like box. The breakfast part was slightly more difficult to comprehend but after I figured out that the circle with dots on it was a plate with food it made sense.

Second box: Next was a picture of a house (I assume the farm?) along with three ponies outside of it. Wait just a second…
I remembered about the scroll I had received last night, the one I had left on the table, and picked it up. Sure enough, three ponies that looked eerily similar to these were on there. The large one even had the same sparkle something-or-another on its butt and the two smaller ones didn’t have any kind of branding either. Two still were unicorns and one had wings so to say it was merely a coincidence would have been idiotic.

So, these three were coming today? Hmm, I won’t know until later.

Third box: A… tree(?) and a lot of cubes. I have absolutely no idea what the hell that means.

Fourth box: the farm house again and me in a wheelchair.

Well, I guess I know what the first half of the day is going to be like but I have no clue as to what’s going to happen later. As unfun (not a word but I’m using it anyways) as not knowing things is, it’ll have to do. But first, some food and a shower.

___

Now that I’m thinking about it, life is actually more like spray paint on a brick wall. If it dries then it stays there practically forever, the only thing removing it naturally is time. However, more can always be added to the wall. But what happens when there is no open space? Previous markings have to be covered, of course. Then, more has to be added and eventually there’s a second layer that completely blocks the first designs added. It’s ok, those weren’t that good anyways, and the newer ones are much nicer and cleaner. Actions and memories are refined and the craftsmanship is more presentable.

People can also leave their own marks on others’ walls. They typically take priority over lesser paintings so they tend to stay longer. The only problem is when scarring experiences occur. They’re frightening and take a whole lot of scrubbing to remove. And what’s worse, those are on top of those other layers so if needs to be removed, everything else beneath it suffers.

My mental wall’s a little messy right now with a lot of uncertainties that are covering some other important things too. Those uncertainties just so happen to be shaped like horses and wheelchairs and a truck-load of question marks; thankfully, those haven’t dried yet. One particular painting was still standing, almost untouched. My apartment.

As I drank a sip of orange juice at the dining table my thoughts kept leading back too it. It’s been a few days since I last saw it, I hope nothing has happened to it. If not, something will. Shit happens around that complex. And what about my brother? I hope he hasn’t called for a search party considering he calls the place every day and I always pick up the phone seeing as he’s the only family I have left. I wouldn’t be surprised when I got back if there was a giant stack of paperwork waiting for me because of a murder investigation or a kidnapping had taken place.

There was someone else too, a new neighbor had moved in and we hit it off alright… but I forget her name. That’s going to be an awkward reunion.

“Welcome back!” she imaginarily said as I pretended to arrive back home.

“Oh heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey… how are yah?”

“…you forgot my name, didn’t you?”

“Fuck.”

Yeah, that’s how it’ll happen.

Before I could continue any farther in my make-believe reunions, something interrupted me with a gentle tap on my shoulder. With a slice of charred toast in my mouth I turned around to meet the unknown visitor and found Workhorse behind me, wearing his unusually usual stoic expression with a stick of wheat still protruding from his mouth. He didn’t say anything, for obvious reasons, but he did gently motion with his head to come down the hallway. I assumed it was to prepare for the shower.

Honestly, it wasn’t going to help that much. A body can be cleansed but if the same attire is constantly put over it constantly then an irremovable stench begins to accumulate. Unfortunately, I don’t think getting new clothes is an option; I haven’t seen anything remotely human in a fashion sense outside of the hat and hair clip.

I returned to gobbling down breakfast. He was patient as I munched down on the last bit of toast and waffles. There was some more cooked hay stuff but I don’t know what’s up with that. I mean, yeah, horses eat hay but I certainly don’t. It’s like wasting food. My father would have thrown a riot if he saw me wasting something, even if it wasn’t in the human diet. Well, he probably would have gotten a heart attack from intelligent horses… but I digress.

I rolled out from the table, put my dish in the sink (and washed it) and headed off with Workhorse who would, like yesterday, assist me.

___

“Ow! Hot hot hot h-hot!”

I nudged the lever over slightly to the left.

“Gah! Cold cold cold cold c-cold!”

Using my honed skills in the art of adjusting shower temperatures, I pushed the handle to the right exactly one half of one fourth of one eighth of an inch with so much precision it’d make an electron microscope look like a cellphone camera. The result was adequate enough, not scalding but definitely not bone chilling, and I finally managed to sit on the stool and begin bathing regularly. The good news was it only took five minutes to finally get it there.

Releasing pent up stress I didn’t know I was accumulating with a hefty sigh I grabbed the shampoo from yesterday and washed myself down. I scratched my head as the product moisturized my scalp and the bandages-
Wait! Damn it! The bandages! Don’t those normally come off when they come into contact with water or something!? How did Workhorse and I miss that? I need to unravel these-

My fingertip felt something peculiar at that moment, interrupting the haywire train of thought. It was the polar opposite of what should be felt in a shower. Dryness. The paper wasn’t affected at all, even after dousing it. I checked the entire wrapping and was met with the same results. I was amazed.

I cupped my hands in the controlled downpour and released a small pool above my head. Astoundingly, the bandages kept tight.

Not feeling up to wasting more time than I already had, I finished with the rudimentary procedures for cleaning up and shut off the flow of water. I whistled for assistance.

…

I signaled again for help.

…

Seriously? Nothing?

Feeling frustrated (and sopping wet) I dragged the shower curtain to one side of the wall and reached for a towel to clean myself off. Unbeknownst to me, there wasn’t a replacement from the one used yesterday.

“Damn it,” I groaned out loud, “looks like I gotta go find one.”

The clothes on my seat would probably have sufficed, but then I would have been wearing uncomfortable clothes all day, an irritation I would like to avoid if I could help it. But, I still couldn’t go out there in my birthday suit… those ponies may go around naked but it doesn’t mean I have to.

Leaning over, carefully minding not to topple the stool, I tossed the clothes onto the sink countertop. Now the more important task was at hand… the transportation of me.

Well, this wouldn’t be such a problem if I still had my feet but… yeah. Ok, you need to plan this carefully, Ethan.
Taking one last reassurance yell making sure I wasn’t completely alone, but as it turns out that for some reason I was, I began the arduous process of… thought.

Ok, so, I’m sitting on a stool in the middle of a shower. There’s a small wall in between me and the wheelchair. It’s at the midpoint between the two objects. I can reach the chair and maneuver it on the floor however I choose but I lack the strength and torque to lift it over. Options:

• I could position the stool to where… No I can’t do that, I’d slip.

-I could try and rest my body against the… shit no, if I mess that up I might accidentally get stuck in a very awkward position.
-What if I rolled up the chair and… wait, I’m not a ninja.

God damn it, why does this have to be more difficult than it should be? Why can’t I just pull the chair as close as possible, lock the breaks in place, turn around in my stool, fall backwards and catch myself in the cushion!?

Oh.

___

Thunk!

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Ow my aching everything!”

Well, that went absolutely brilliant. Now you’re on the floor, your chair is toppled over, and your hand is stuck in the wall; you wanna know something, Self? You’re an idiot. You should have waited.

Not wanting to scold myself anymore, the impending bruises and developing headache could take care of that, I stared at the door. Either through dumb luck or my epic skills, I had landed stomach-up.

Seriously, how could they not have heard that? The yelling, the crashing on the floor… what the hell is going on out there?

A creak from the upstairs…

“Hey! Heeeeeeeey!” I called out, hoping to gain any attention possible.

A pair of hoofsteps went down the stairs and then I realized something. Something horrible. Something that could scar me for life.

Hair-Bow might be the only one in the house…

She was put in her bed earlier…

And I’m naked.

She’s a child.

And… I’m naked.

“Hair-Bow! Don’t come in!” I angrily demanded as the impeding steps continued down the stairs.

It didn’t seem to help much, I could hear the rhythm continue. The nearest source of coverage was in the sink and it certainly wasn’t going to come crawling to me.

I jerked myself forward but fell drastically short due to the hand that had imbedded itself in the drywall.

“Shit!”

No matter how much I pulled back, my hand had somehow gotten stuck in there and it wasn’t going to release itself through contemporary measures. This didn’t aid the fact that a young filly was practically a few feet down the hallway by now.

“Don’t come in!”

The hoofsteps continued.

They were at the door a moment later. I could see the shadows impeding the small bar of light at the bottom of the frame. With one last fateful tug on my arm, I realized my future was doomed.

The lever turned, the tumblers creaked, the hinges squeaked, and then the doorbell rang.

The doorbell rang!

Thank you!

Hair-bow, or who I assumed it was, trotted down the hallway to go greet the guest. I got another good look at the wall to find what the problem was. I tore out a small chunk of drywall and found that my hand was holding onto a pipe. I had tensed up so much that it had forcibly grabbed the tube and it wouldn’t let go. Feeling like an idiot, I let go and released myself. Using my available strength, I crawled towards the sink, which wasn’t a fun experience on my elbows, got the clothes, awkwardly managed to dress myself, and then lied on the floor.

Well Ethan, if you had just dried yourself off with the clothes this wouldn’t have happened. Or, it would have been less stressful in any case. You have a real habit for tripping yourself up, huh?

The entrance to the bathroom gently swung open and revealed a pony I hadn’t had the opportunity to meet before. It looked feminine, purple (oooookaaaaaay... strange), and had a unicorn horn.

A horn huh? I always wondered what the whole point of the horn was, it’s not like those are violent creatures. Well, neither are rhinos unless provoked… maybe it’s an art of self-defense? I’m not sure, something about a stampede of unicorns just doesn’t sound as intimidating as a stampede of rhinos.

Wow, I just said unicorn like it was no problem. I’m either in shock or losing it. Probably a cruel combination of both.
Aforementioned unicorn, on the other hand, was standing there rather perplexed. I’m sure I wasn’t a magnificent sight to behold, I wasn’t ugly at least, but I think this would have made anyone do a double take. I know I was, I’d never seen a purple mammal before.

Seconds later, after a delightfully awkward unintentional stare-off, my littlest companion walked next to her and gasped at the scene.

“Eeighburgh!” she whinnied, dismayed at my unfortunate circumstance. Small as she might be, she pushed the chair back up to its proper standing and managed to prop me up using only her noggin. I ruffled her mane a bit in thanks, only after observing her mopey face, and looked back at the new comer.

Hair-bow neighed something to her, there was an “eeeighburgh” somewhere in there, and then the purple one decided to walk up to me and BREAK THE FUCKING LAWS OF PHYSICS.

There I was, lying on the floor like a good man and then all of a sudden her horn starts glowing and I levitated.
Just, up. Up. No rope, pullies, hooves/hands, just… up.

Up!

What the hell!?

My body was enveloped in that now apparently evil unicorn’s aura, FLOATING, and she set me in the chair before I could even voice my concerns. I was about to scream bloody murder but the filly was beginning to look desperately concerned again which meant it was time to chillax. Bow, how does one chill when physics was just eradicated from existence!?
So, instead of trying to make sense of anything like a sensible person, I left my mouth agape in awe.

The reality shatterer stood there, unsure of what to do as I was unsure of up and down. That’s what I assumed, based on the silence and all. I mirrored her, not moving a muscle.

There was a clicking noise and suddenly a light pink bow was on the floor. The original wearer of the accessory nudged the anti-science pony on her hind leg and pointed at it. The manifestation of purple evil performed her witchcraft once again and levitated it up to my eye level.

With a huff, the yellow pony ordered a new command. It… transformed! Not just like it contorted into a different shape, but it physically changed into a rather swanky top-hat. Then it was put on my head, still damp, and they both smiled at me like, “See? No problem.”

As a child and through my adolescent life, I had never believed in magic. There was this one chick, Tessa, who was a firm believer in the practice and would always explain things so it made sense to her. When I confronted her about it, she said, “Magic is like life, it only gets more complex the more you look at the bigger picture.” For some reason, I felt compelled to ask her out after our brief conversation. She said it was magic that I did. I suppose it was true… her rack certainly was magical.

But to say that I was a believer… I believe she must have been on to something.

I shut my mouth as the realization set upon me. I told myself earlier that I needed to accept things for the way they were and this is exactly what I need. Also, not getting mauled by Stetson for upsetting her relative would be great too.
Gingerly removing the hat and setting it on the filly’s head, I grinned at… Tessa, the purple pony, and shook her hoof.
Politely, she brought out a towel for my dripping hair and mopped the puddle that formed on the floor. Using her super powers, no longer branded evil by the official brain of Ethan, she mended the hole in the wall to the point where it looked as if nothing had transpired here. I dried myself off as quickly as possible and set the towel on a hook for later.
We three made our way into the living room where I met two little ponies, much like the descriptions on the scrolls, who both turned out to be my youngest companion’s friends.

I was introduced, a few more lines were said (I guess) and they both giggled at something. They started to circle me, inspecting my human shape and my hands, mostly hands, before I saw Hair-bow winking and gnawing at her left h-

Oh.

I clapped, instantly gaining attention. I pointed at a generalized area on the carpet and the guests paced to it, intrigued. My junior prankster fetched a cup of syrup to which she delivered to me. The living room audience cocked their heads sideways.
“Behold,” I spoke, well aware they couldn’t understand any of my dialogue. Eh, I’m a little bit of an attention whore that way. “Feast your eyes on this thumb,” I said while panning my left hand to them, “as I will accomplish the impossible.”

I commenced the dipping of the thumb. Their interest increased.

I licked it.

Then, as was tradition, I ate it.

___

After another fiasco of frightened fillies and upchucking unicorns (how’s that magic for you, Tessa?) and a follow-up explanation using Pictionary, we all had a good but awkward laugh about it. I found it to be an appropriate source of vengeance for not warning me she was going to use magicky stiff. Seriously, levitation and transforming? I wonder what else she can do. And to think, I once thought unicorns were stupid. They’re awesome!

Stetson and Workhorse still were no place to be found which is… odd. Maybe there was an emergency to attend to? They probably didn’t expect I’d fall in the shower. I know I wasn’t planning it. Despite this, they’re going to get a lecture from me even if they can’t understand one word of it.

When everything was said, or perhaps unsaid to me, and done, I received an ushering signal from Hair-Bow to go outside with them. I did find it strange that I was suddenly putting in so much trust into a mere child but she seemed as if she knew what she was doing which is a one hell of a step up from my cluelessness. That, and I figured I owed her one so I obliged without any fuss.

One treacherous climb down the front stairs later and we were back outside. If I had to guess, it was a partly cloudy day with a fifteen percent chance of showers with rising winds coming from the northeast at approximately two miles per hour. But, that was just a guess, I’m not a meteorologist nor do I ever plan to become one.

From step, or in my case “rotation”, one, the group around me just wouldn’t shut up. The orange punk looking filly kept jumping up and fluttering her wings for a moment before landing again while her mouth was probably asking more than what was allowed in a game of twenty questions. The white unicorn was doing, more or less, the same thing but with more composure. About as much composure as an excited child can get.

Funnily enough, I did hear the one word I understood from their equine language. Little Hair Bow kept saying “Eeeighburgh,” as if defending me or answering questions for me. Hey, if I had a new comer in town that couldn’t speak… horse, I suppose I’d ask a plethora of questions too.

Tessa kept eyeing me from the side, either to see if I could keep up or for some other reason unbeknownst to me, but keeping barely ahead of the pack. I myself couldn’t help but glance at her own curious branding. It looked like a firework in all seriousness.

Hold it, brain click.

Stetson and Workhorse had apple markings and they both lived in a house at an apple farm. So if Tessa has a firework… she must live near a fireworks depo! And the little ones must not have a mark… because they’re too young for it, perhaps? I know I sure as hell wouldn’t want someone to brand me at that age.

“Eeeighburgh,” my somewhat-assistant announced while looking my way.

“Yes?” I replied only for the sake that she knew I heard her. It’s not like I could talk to them anyways.

“Eeeeeth…Eeeethhhhhburgh.” She was straining her tongue to force out a vowel that just wouldn’t arrive after the “thhhhh” noise. My guess was that she still couldn’t yet pronounce my name.

“Ethan,” I affirmed. “No burgh about it.”

As the phrase went, monkey see monkey do, they all tried their hand, erhm… hoof(?) at pronouncing it. They all failed at the same spot, some arriving quicker than others, but it was obvious that they were getting nowhere and fast.

The one place we were actually getting to came back into view. I’d have to take a guess and say it was the rooftops coming into view again. As soon as I saw them I put myself in park, a phrase I thought I’d never say in my life, idly wondering if going back through this place was such a good idea. The last attempt ended with me being sent to the hospital and having bandages wrapped around my head along with causing minor strokes of panic through an equine crowd. I kind of wish I knew more about this medical stuff right about now so I could properly treat myself.

Tessa seemed to notice my concern, or maybe even share it. It was entirely possible that Hair-bow shared my terrific tale of freaking out, but to say I knew for sure would have been a lie. She paused, keeping an encouraging grin, and seemed patient to wait until I was r-

BLAM!

Pink. Deadly amounts of pink from every color of the pink-spectrum. Dark, light, middle, and just plain pink came across my vision at a blur with an insane amount of force. I was tossed from my chair, somehow the buckle had come undone, and found myself rotating aimlessly in an almost ninety degree climb. Before I had even realized what was going on, I was at the apex of the arc and was soon about to plummet to the ground which looked far enough to cause some serious damage even if I did have feet to land on. Cue the blood curdling screams.

I think I passed out for a second because the very next moment, I found myself landing squarely on a plush white saddle and staring into a mane that was probably cotton candy. What’s even worse, this one was bouncing like a fucking maniac. From my perspective, there was absolutely no rhyme or reason as to what just happened. I’m not at a loss for words; I’m at a loss for everything.

My purple travel guide made sure to clarify, once my head stopped spinning, that this was not part of the plan. The furrowed brow with an unamused frown clearly spoke that she knew exactly who this was and she was displeased with the current actions.

So, I think they had an argument about it. There were some leg gestures that often pointed at my own transportation mechanism, a large variety of horse speak, and even a bit of the pink devil standing on her two back legs and crossing her arms which I knew was entirely unnatural. I sometimes wish I knew what they were saying, or at least thinking. I don’t appreciate being blindly led like this.

I tapped on the pink shoulder in front of me and was met almost instantaneously with a apoplectically wide grin. Her mouth ran like a motor boat trying to spew out every word (in horseinese), causing a shower of spit to run of my face. I had to hold a hand up. It probably wouldn’t be this way if her face wasn’t so close to mine… Poor hand, I’ll be sure to give you a wonderful soap and water scrub later.

My fingered appendage decided it would be better to stop the problem at the source and shut her up instead. As was to be expected, the fuzz ball wouldn’t quit it even after I closed it. I looked at the three fillies with my eyes begging for assistance. They shrugged. Simple as that, like, “There’s nothing we can really do.”

After seeing Tessa’s rather neutral expression, it led me to believe the same sentiments were true.

Fine, be that way. After today, I’m planning a way out of this crazy town… once I find a map and a decent method of transport, not to mention food, water, shelter. Not being able to communicate might put a damper on things and- ok, you win this round. I’ll just stay here and they’re going to like it.

As I returned my attention back to the civilization in front of me, my stomach began to fill with butterflies as if a giant migration had swooped in for a visit. I mean, at least this time I knew what to expect. Well, I knew to expect the unexpected. I kind of wish I had a metaphor for this situation.

“Well, Ethan, it’s time to man up and take a plunge back into this strange town,” I encouraged myself out loud.

___

Being observed by animals as opposed to the opposite way is awkward on both ends of either party. It’s like I was wearing a disco ball for a head and wearing a neon sign around my neck that was flashing “look at me!” in consistent intervals. The bemused faces, the hooves to their faces to cover their mouth (good news for you, I have no idea what you’re saying), and the occasional appearance of terror or grimace from them wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. Like adding lemon juice to an open wound, none of them talked or moved either until I was a safe distance away.

Even through all of that, my suddenly acquired tour guide was hopping along like nothing was amiss, even supposedly saying hi to a few. It was… interesting. I tried to communicate my concern about how aggravating it was to keep balance as she traveled onward, but it really didn’t go that well. In all honesty, it failed tremendously. We probably looked like a comic duo, a smiling happy pink thing and a frowning arm-crossed human. I wonder if that would make for a good sitcom…

Along the way, I did find out what the tree and cube picture really meant. Along with the normal appearing buildings there were also a select few that stood out from the crowd: A bakery covered with sweets, a design studio, and of course the house built into a tree. From one of the windows, before entering, I saw some bookshelves that were packed to the brim with texts of various widths. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Of each of the four levels, the book size slimmed down from top to bottom with the bottom being no bigger than a weekly magazine.

Tessa held open the door for everyone to enter. Before we went through, I looked over my shoulder to still see the local… citizens (I think that’s correct), continuing their onslaught of unnerving glares. Not wanting to make a situation more awkward than need be, I decided to wave indiscriminately at the crowd. I managed to get one return from a small colt who seemed eager to return the greeting, but his mother forcibly put his hoof to the ground. My guide walked through the entrance and then the door gently closed behind us with a faint purple aura.

“Well, that wasn’t pleasant.”

But, there wasn’t any time for such wallowing as an air-light book was dropped into my lap, snapping me out of my momentary depression. I looked at the cover and it had a smiling sun with a crayon textured, impossibly colored school house with horribly drawn ponies, I think they’re ponies, and then back at my deliverer who happened to be the white coat filly. Her two companions also had one of similar design and Tessa was working on pulling more out from the collection, mostly bottom shelf. They piled on more and more of these with varying themes, based on cover design, until the stack was half way to my neck.

I picked up the top one, having a picture of a common kitchen set-up, and opened it. The very first page had a picture of a sink and the foreign language underneath. I flipped to the next page and it had the same thing, except with a different example.

Flipping through page after page, I suddenly realized what these were and why I was here. These were kindergarten books and I was learning how to read it. Just… damn. An entire literary encyclopedia set of bare basic knowledge. The pony I was sitting on gave me a tremendous smile before letting me slide back into my wheelchair, to which I more than happily oblidged. For the first time, I saw her entire face and really it was more cheerful than I had initially predicted. The young fillies brought out a table for me where I put down the stack and then they brought out blank scrolls, some quills, and an ink container.

I’m not entirely sure why a purple fireworks enthusiast brought me here to learn, but I guess they think I’m sentient enough to cope with their language. And, maybe if I studied enough I could ask them some questions and maybe, just finally, figure out where I was!

A sudden redeeming seemed to purge through my body, like when medicine kicks in but without the drowsiness. Finally, I could make some headway into figuring out my location and some other things, like why my legs are gone. A smile spread across my face ever so slowly as the glory of a new option, one with potential to solve just about everything, was born. I’ll never take school for granted again!

With a newfound resolution, I picked up the first book and got to work. My traveling group soon followed Tessa who ushered them to another part of the house. My guess would have to be she wanted me to have some silence so I wouldn’t be distracted or they needed to work on something else. Regardless, I was grateful.
Before I could jot down my first note about the sink, a light green book levitated towards me. Freaky as it was, I removed it from the air and opened it.

There were seventy five pages, each with only one symbol.

An alphabet… a fair place to start.

End.